


Stripped

by glymr, iesika



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Crack, M/M, Sad, Stripping, dubcon, pornday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-08
Updated: 2010-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/pseuds/glymr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/iesika/pseuds/iesika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Tim's eighteenth birthday, Dick takes him to the best strip club in town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stripped

**Author's Note:**

> A SPECIAL NOTE: This story began as a silly, cracky porn chat RP between  
> iesika and glymr. Afterward glymr wrote the lead in (the chat started with the stripping), and we've managed to integrate the first half of it *really* well, putting everything from Dick's point of view...but on getting about halfway through we realized that wasn't going to work - not without *massive* rewrites that would kill a lot of our favorite parts. Simply put, there wasn't a way to leave all the good stuff in while restricting it to one point of view.
> 
> We have decided to forgo our usually (reasonably) stringent quality control for cleaning up collaborations and chat-porn inspired stories in the interest of producing as much celebratory Pornday porn as possible. From about the halfway point of this story, pov will begin alternating. Mostly, iesika was playing Tim and glymr was playing Dick, though there was a fair bit of overlap.
> 
> Consider this an interesting peek into the inner workings of the collaborative process.
> 
> (Or, you know, just enjoy the porn.)

On his eighteenth birthday, Dick takes Tim to the best strip club in town...and watches as Tim sits, stoic, while girl after girl parades onto the stage, dancing and twirling and jiggling, all without earning a visible reaction. In a moment of frustration, Dick slips the waitress some cash and whispers a request into her ear, and soon one of the prettiest of the girls, with golden hair and blue eyes, is giving Tim a lap dance while Dick watches with amusement.

Tim's expression is blank. The girl leans forward, pressing her breasts against his chest, and says to him breathily. "Don't you like me, sugar?"

"You're very...attractive," says Tim stiffly. When Dick presses a bill into his hand he tucks it gingerly into the strap of her thong with as little skin-to-skin contact as humanly possible.

"Not your type, huh?" The girl looks at him appraisingly for a moment, then smiles and kisses his cheek. Sliding off him, she leans over Dick and whispers something in his ear. Dick looks surprised, and glances at Tim for a moment before nodding at her and grinning, slipping another bill into her hand. She kisses him and leaves.

Dick leans forward. "Want to get out of here?"

Tim can't quite hide his relief. "Can we go home, now?"

"Not yet," Dick smirks. "I want to take you somewhere else, first."

Tim sighs, and Dick almost feels guilty, but comforts himself with the thought that Tim might find their next destination more appealing, if what the girl said is true.

* * *

Dick half-expects Tim to freak out a bit when they get there, but he doesn't bat an eye. If anything, Tim looks even *more* long-suffering as guy after guy strides out, peeling off layers one by one to reveal smooth, hard muscles underneath.

Dick frowns, wondering what it's going to take to make Tim react, wondering if this was a mistake after all, when, just for a moment, there's a flicker of interest in Tim's face. His eyes focus for a split-second, tracking one of the men as he swaggers out and begins to strip. Then the blank wall of indifference returns. Dick turns his gaze on the stage...it's a younger man, muscular, dark hair, blue eyes. The next time their waiter stops by, Dick presses a bill into his hand and whispers into his ear.

A few minutes after the dark-haired kid leaves the stage, he shows up at their table, smiling widely as he slides onto Tim's lap. This time Tim's expression is positively _bored_ , but he accepts the bill and carefully tucks it into the guy's waistband. The young man seems disappointed by the lack of reaction, but finishes his routine and leaves gracefully, winking at Dick as he goes.

"*Now* can we go home?"

Dick sighs. "All right, little brother. All right."

* * *

"I'm sorry you didn't enjoy yourself," says Dick on the way back. It's a warm summer night and they have the windows open, letting in the smells and sounds of the Gotham night.

Tim is quiet for a moment. "It's all right. It's...just not really my thing," he says.

"Why not?" asks Dick, genuinely curious.

"It...makes me uncomfortable," says Tim slowly. "People selling their bodies like that, selling sex...it's almost like going to a prostitute."

Dick frowns. "It's true that some people are forced into it by circumstance," he says, "but most of the people you saw tonight genuinely enjoy what they do, you know. Nudity isn't the same thing as sex, and if you've got a great body, why not show it off? It's all an act anyway." He can feel Tim's eyes slide to him briefly before turning back to the road, but Tim's next words are unexpected.

"You'd make a great stripper," says Tim, sounding amused. "You'd really enjoy it."

Dick laughs. "I *would*, I think. Maybe I should have seen if the manager would let *me* take the stage."

"Dick--" Tim sounds alarmed.

"Don't worry, little brother," says Dick, laughing again. "I won't do anything that would make Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's son, look any crazier than he already does without checking with Bruce first."

"Good," says Tim, clearly relieved.

But Dick's thinking about what Tim said, and is quiet the rest of the way to his apartment, an idea forming in his mind.

* * *

When they get there, Tim sits down on the couch, as Dick hoped he would. Dick grins a little to himself and goes to stand in front of him, hand on his slightly cocked hip. Tim looks up at him warily. "You've been much too quiet," he says, obviously suspicious.

"I *am* sorry you didn't have fun, little brother," says Dick, mischief dancing in his eyes. Tim looks almost alarmed, now. Dick leans forward, staring into Tim's eyes. "So I'm going to have to make it up to you."

Tim can't quite help it when his eyes dart to the door, the window, looking for a means of escape.

Dick's smile is positively *predatory* now. He begins to...move. His hips undulating as he slowly unzips and shimmies out of his light windbreaker.

"Are you *stripping*?" says Tim, and forces a laugh. "Dick, this is *ridiculous*."

"Mm-hmm," agrees Dick, and starts supplying his own music, "Ba-dum da DUM da da dum."

" _Dick_ ," says Tim as Dick starts to undo the buttons of his shirt, lingering playfully over each one. "Cut it out before you make more of an *ass* of yourself than you already are."

Dick just flashes him a bright grin. "You know I never worry about things like that, Tim." The shirt slides down off his arms and gets tossed in Tim's direction. Tim picks it up and starts shaking it out before Dick grabs it from him and throws it across the room. "Were you seriously about to fold that?"

Tim frowns at him like Dick is an *idiot*. "It's *rayon."

Tim is glaring at him. But that's more of a reaction than anyone else has gotten tonight, so Dick lets his hand brush down to his thigh, to the fly of his jeans, and watches Tim zero in on the motion, his eyes narrowing. He undoes the button with a casual flick of his hand, shimmying a little, and and watches Tim's gaze follow the movement before darting away. Dick feels his grin twist into something sharp. He stalks forward and props a knee on the side of the couch, bending just enough to really make the denim *stretch*.

Tim isn't actually objecting anymore, he realizes. He glances down at Tim's hands, locked tightly on his own knees, white-knuckled and tense. There's sweat collecting at the edge of Tim's hairline. Dick cups himself through his jeans, vaguely surprised that he's starting to get hard - but then, he's always liked being looked at. He strokes up over his own belly, rucking his undershirt up over his abs. Tim closes his eyes, and Dick reaches out to chuck him on the chin. "Ah ah," he scolds. "That's cheating." He waits until Tim opens his eyes again - looking straight at Dick's face and nowhere else - and then lowers his zipper, slowly, tooth by tooth. It sounds obscenely loud in the quiet room, so Dick starts humming again as he inches the pants down over his hipbones. He brings his other knee up, until he's straddling Tim, and leans forward to plant his hands on the back of the couch on either side of Tim's head. His thighs brush Tim's forearms, and Tim jerks his hands away from the contact like it burns, reaching up to plant his hands on Dick's chest and push, like he actually thinks he can unbalance him.

Dick just grins again and goes with the movement, bending over backward and catching himself with his hands on the floor, his body bowing in arch like the Sprang River Bridge. He hears Tim gasp, and it makes his hips move, pumping idly in the air. After a few seconds, though, the stretch starts to become uncomfortable, so he brings his knees up and straightens into a handstand, letting his loose-necked undershirt fall over his head, down his arms to the floor. He finishes the walkover and lands in a crouch, looking up at Tim, whose eyes are wide, his face flushed.

Dick stands slowly, wriggling out of his jeans as he pulls himself upright. He turns as he does it, to show his ass off to best advantage, and once he gets them off he bends at the waist and spreads his legs and flings his jeans at Tim between his legs. Tim deflects them like they're a projectile weapon, sending them spinning to the floor with a strike from his forearm. Dick takes the moment of distraction to plant his hands and kick his legs out and around, landing on his knees. The movement obviously catches Tim's eye, because he jerks his head back around to look at Dick at once, and then looks suddenly apprehensive as Dick starts crawling forward.

"This isn't funny," he whispers hoarsely when Dick chuckles.

"Not funny," Dick repeats solemnly. "Okay." He plants one hand on the edge of the couch, and Tim's knees jerk away from it, spreading his legs wide. Dick insinuates himself into the space and braces with his other hand beside Tim's hip. He lifts himself up on his knees, dragging his chest and then his stomach against the juncture of Tim's thighs.

Tim's breath is coming a little too fast - *Tim*, who's always so careful of his breathing, so _controlled_ \- and he's pressed back against the couch, not meeting Dick's eyes. A bead of sweat runs down from his hairline and Dick can't help himself - he leans in and licks it. Tim jerks away from him with a small gasp.

"You didn't seem to enjoy the lap dance that girl gave you, little brother," says Dick as he folds his legs up, straddling Tim's thighs. "Or the one that guy gave you." He shifts, just a little, pressing down. Tim is hard, under his tailored slacks - Dick was hoping, but until now he wasn't sure. A wave of color washes into Tim's face as Dick presses down against the bulge and *rides* it.

"Are you expecting me to shove a twenty in your pants?" snaps Tim, and Dick smirks at him.

"Only if that's your _wallet_ I'm sitting on," he says, and starts undulating his hips, back and forth, up and down in time with the music in his head. Rubbing against Tim's...wallet. The motion earns him a gasp and Tim grips the edge of the couch and the edge of the cushion below him with so much force that the tendons on the back of his hand stand out and his knuckles go white.

"Mmm," says Dick thoughtfully. "Maybe we should have stayed at the second club a little longer." He's more turned on than he thought he would be by his little brother's reactions - the way his skin flushes and his breath stutters, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he tries to evade Dick's eyes. Tim bites his lip and turns his face even further away as Dick leans in, his mouth hovering a breath from Tim's ear. He's never seen Tim like this, and he wants _more_. The thought hits Dick suddenly, surprising him with its intensity, and he realizes he wants this. Wants Tim. That maybe he can have him. He catches Tim's hands and drags them up, unfolding them from their fists and bringing them up to cup his hips - grinds down against him in earnest and feels Tim's fingers spasm.

"Well, little brother?" he breathes, and nips - very lightly - at the edge of Tim's ear. It's like he's snapped a guidewire. Tim's whole body bucks and arches, thrusting up against him as Tim's grip tightens to the point of bruising. A loud moan escapes Tim's throat as he throws his head back, and arches...and comes in his pants.

 _Oh my god_ , thinks Dick. He's literally stunned for a moment, motionless. He pulls back, looking at Tim's face.

Tim has his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his head still turned away, and he makes a horrible little embarrassed whimper, sounding like he's in pain.

Guilt rises up in Dick, choking him. He puts his hands on Tim's shoulders. "It's all right. It's all _right_." Tim lashes out, trying to shove Dick off, strike at him, anything, but Dick blocks reflexively and catches his hands...and leans in to kiss him.

Tim's still got his eyes screwed shut, just a little dampness around them, his mouth twisted in a sneer of self-disgust. He doesn't see it coming, so when Dick's mouth presses to his, Tim's eyes fly open and his mouth softens in surprise. Dick licks at his lips, licks *into* his mouth, and Tim whimpers again, but not so horribly this time. His body is rigid under Dick's, unmoving, not kissing or even _responding_...

...until all at once he just goes boneless, slumps back and stops fighting, letting his arms fall limp beside him.

"Tim, Tim..." Dick kisses his cheek, above his eye...he has to fix this. Has to make this *right*.

"You can. You can get off me now," Tim whispers. "You made your point. Or. Or whatever you were doing." He can't make the words come out with the confidence or the scathing edge he wants them to have.

" _Tim_ ," says Dick, resting his forehead against Tim's. "I'm didn't mean to-"

"I know," Tim cuts him off. "I know. It was a joke, you didn't mean it to go so far-"

" _No._ I didn't mean to hurt you." Dick leans down, pressing his lips into Tim's neck. "I..."

Tim lets his head fall back onto the back of the sofa and stares up at the ceiling.

"It's not a joke. I mean, it was...it started that way...but I just wanted to see, I wanted to know what turned you on. Because..." Dick swallows.

Tim's throat bobs in sympathy.

"I want..." Dick leans in, his lips against Tim's temple. "I _want_ you." And it's true, he realizes. He's not just saying it to fix things.

Tim breathes in, once, harshly, through his nose. Just the sound of those words in Dick's voice is enough to send a shock of pleasure through him...even if he doesn't believe them.

Dick grinds down a little - he's still half-hard, despite everything, and traces his tongue over the edge of Tim's ear again. "I _want_ you," he repeats, low and sweet in Tim's ear.

Tim shivers, but - "You have a distressing tendency to attach yourself to anyone who shows you physical affection."

Dick rears back, stung, but Tim goes on. "Just because. Just because I." He swallows again, his throat dry. "It's a physical reaction," he lies. "Heat and pressure and motion, properly applied... _Anyone_ would have reacted."

Dick's eyes narrow. "You didn't react at the clubs. You didn't react to the girl *or* the guy giving you a lap dance."

And Tim can't say a word, because what he really meant, apparently, was that anyone would have reacted the same way to *Dick* squirming in their lap.

Dick smiles at him, a little wryly. "Tim," he says, his voice low and seductive. He kisses Tim on the other temple, slides his hands around Tim's waist, under his shirt to slide up his warm back. He tries to pull Tim into a hug, but the boy resists, stiffening again, pulling away.

"Will you get *off* me," he says, scowling at the ceiling.

Dick tries to think, but it's hard. Because _he's_ still hard...oh. Maybe if he... "You're not going to return the favor?" he asks with a smile.

Tim's eyes snap down to meet Dick's, his mouth slightly parted. There's something wild and slightly terrified in his gaze...he's obviously braced for the other shoe to drop.

Sliding his hand down Tim's arm, Dick takes Tim's hand in his and pulls it down to between his legs. "It's only fair," he says, still smiling...gently, not teasing. He presses Tim's hand down, so Tim can *feel* how hard he is, how serious he is.

Tim's eyes shut again, as he gives a whole body shudder, his fingers spasming under Dick's hand

Dick's own breath catches as he feels Tim's fingers on him through the thin black cotton. "Please, Tim," he says. "Touch me."

Tim's hand moves under his, the touch tentative and unsure, exploring the shape of him with his fingertips without really moving his palm...not stroking so much as just...feeling. And Dick lets himself _feel_ it, lets his reaction show as much as he can. Lets everything show in his face and his body. "Little brother," he says with a shuddering sigh.

Tim can feel his breath gust across the lower part of his face, and it makes him suck in a breath, breathe in *Dick*.

Dick's hand is still around Tim's wrist, and he brushes his fingertips over Tim's knuckles, guiding his hand into the slit in his underwear, pulling himself out so that Tim can *see* him, smell his arousal, as well as touch him.

Tim's fingers are trembling. All he can do is trace the shape, his hands weak, his breath catching in his throat.

"Please," says Dick again, and he's not just begging to be touched anymore. There's something more, here, something bigger. He holds himself as still as he can, leaking pre-come at the feel of Tim's fingers, at his hesitant touch. "I need you," he whispers.

" _Dick_ ," Tim murmurs, his voice high and shaky. He lets Dick close his fingers around his cock, squeezes just a little

Dick moves Tim's hand on him, slowly, up to the tip where he's dripping, then, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, down again. He's tense, so tense.

Tim follows the motion and repeats it, careful to replicate it exactly. If this is what Dick wants...

Dick groans. "Tim, please..." he can't take much more.

Tim keeps repeating the gesture, keeping his motion as consistent as he can. When Dick's hand tightens on his, he increases the pressure of his grip.

Dick lets his head fall forward on Tim's shoulder again. In spite of himself, he begins move Tim's hand faster, urging him to increase the pace. "Tim," he says, hips thrusting forward into Tim's fist.

Tim's concentrating on the flutter of breath against his throat, the feeling of Dick's cock moving through the circle of his fist. He's getting hard again, and he hopes Dick doesn't notice. Maybe once he's had an orgasm he'll let Tim escape back to his room, to the safety of his bed or his shower and the heat of this memory.

He _knows_ Dick's just keyed up from his night out. They've been surrounded by barely-clothed men and women all night long. Dick has a healthy libido, of course he's aroused. Of course he wants release.

Tim really can't blame him.

It's so good...Tim's hard, *strong* hand, strong with years of gripping a grapple gun and holding himself up, calloused and wonderful. "God that's good," he gasps. "God, Tim." He leans forward, catching Tim's lips in another kiss, licking at Tim's tongue and lips with his own, messy and hot.

Tim still can't wrap his mind about the fact this is *happening* to him...but he makes the decision to relax into it, to let Dick kiss him, his tongue thick in Tim's mouth. It feels good. He really ought to just enjoy himself while this lasts. They're past the point of deniability. Their relationship is going to be ruined no matter what he does, at this point.

Dick hums into the kiss and smiles against Tim's lips, then gasps against his mouth as Tim's hand slides over the head of his dick again. Ripping his mouth away he arches back with a cry, shuddering and spilling over Tim's hand and his own.

All Tim can do is watch. He's helpless, trapped by the feelings running through him, transfixed by Dick's beauty.

Dick's a little shocked by the force of his orgasm. He hasn't come so hard in a long time, especially just from someone jerking him off. He straightens slowly, then lets his head fall forward against Tim's shoulder yet again. "Hmm. Can I take you to a strip club again next week?" he asks with a warm chuckle.

Tim swallows hard. "I'd... really rather you didn't." He wants to escape. He also wants to stay right here forever, with Dick's warm weight on him, his breath on his neck.

Dick frowns a little and lifts his head. Something's wrong. Tim's hard again, Dick can feel it. Is he afraid he'll come too quickly again? "Little brother?"

"You're kind of heavy," Tim says quietly without looking at him. "Can you get off me now?"

Dick stills for a second, then shifts slightly. "I'd rather get you off," he says, and tries to smile, but it comes out uncertain.

"I'm really tired," Tim says even more quietly. "I....I need a shower."

Dick moves and slides and ends up on his knees between Tim's legs. "It's not dirty, you know," he says, and lays one hand on the wet spot on Tim's jeans. "I'd...I'd like to..."

And Tim twists and shuts his knees, standing now that he's free. "I said I'm tired. Look, thanks for. For." He swallows. "I'm going to bed."

Dick reaches out, but Tim is already beyond his grasp. "But..." he says helplessly, and it's clear he's done something wrong again, but he has no idea what. "But, Tim--" Something seizes in his chest. "Jesus. If. If you didn't want to-"

Tim doesn't say anything, but he stops in the doorway, his back to Dick.

"Tim. I didn't...you didn't just let me--" Dick combs a hand through his hair. "I would never *force* you."

Tim turns with a vicious twist to his lips, a light in his eyes that Dick doesn't like at all. "You think I wanted to come in my pants?" The anger's all turned inward, though. It isn't _Dick_ Tim is so angry with.

Still, Dick's taken aback. "It's nothing to be..." he stops, knowing that's not going to help. "The first time I ever did something, how long do you think *I* lasted?" he says instead.

"That isn't the *point*," Tim hisses. If Dick's not imagining things, his eyes are getting brighter, shining in the low glow of the lamp. "I didn't want you to-" Dick flinches, anticipating the end of the sentence. When Tim finishes though, it's in a low, broken voice. "-to *know*."

 _Oh_. Dick can't even speak for a long moment. "Oh," he says finally, his voice soft. "But. But, Tim..." he reaches out again, pleadingly. "Why not? We can...we can..."

"You were never supposed to know," Tim continues as if he didn't hear him. "I'm not - I'm not an idiot, okay. I know I'm not exactly your type. And I know what your track record is like. I'm not going to be a warm body while you wait for the next leggy redhead to walk into your life. So if you could just....kindly forget this embarrassing little *interlude*, I'd really appreciate it."

Dick is struck dumb for a moment, his tongue seeming to fill his throat. He forces himself to swallow. "I know...I know I don't have the best track record," he says hoarsely, ashamed. "But I keep trying. Because I want...I want someone who...Who _understands_ ," he finishes softly.

Tim turns away again and hugs himself. For the last five years, he's been telling himself that what just happened would be absolutely impossible. He thinks maybe he's still in shock. It's the only explanation for why he didn't just nervestrike Dick when this all started.

"And who says you're not my type?" Dick adds, anger creeping into his tone.

Tim turns around and shoots him an incredulous look, tugging at his bangs first, and then striking his flat chest with his palms. He stops short of putting his hand on his crotch. That would be crude.

Dick can't help it. He laughs. "You think *that's* a deterrent?" He gets up off the floor, stalking forward. "You think that matters to me, when you are so...so... _god_." Coming even with Tim, he puts a hand on his arm, "When you're so strong...and brilliant...and _beautiful?_ " He takes a step closer, looking down into Tim's eyes. "You're *Robin*, Tim."

Tim tries to turn away, but Dick stops him with the hand on his arm and catches his cheek with his free hand, cupping it in his palm and making Tim look up at him. "Robin," he says softly, swallowing again. "Do you really think I'm so shallow that I wouldn't love you because you're male?" And he's almost angry now, a fierce, sweet ache burning through him. "Or because you don't have red hair?" He laughs again, genuinely amused at the idea.

Tim's eyes drop."The hair was the least of my concerns, actually."

"You do know that I've been with *almost* as many men as women," Dick says dryly before he can think the better of it.

"Oh," Tim says quietly. After a beat, he adds, with a quirk of his lip. "So twice as many people as I thought before. That's reassuring."

And the relief is so powerful at getting him to smile that Dick can't help but sweep him into his arms. "Tim, you...I want you." He says softly. "But I don't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you. Please..."

Tim sighs and melts into the hug, feeling small and useless. Something about the hug reminds him of what it felt like when he was just starting out as Robin. When Dick had been constantly trying to reassure him that he was good enough for the job.

"I don't..." Dick tightens his hold. "I don't want to *lose* you."

Tim frowns against his shoulder. "*Lose* me. I'm not the one with the short attention span, Dick." _Really_ not, considering how long...

Tim doesn't let himself think it

Dick pulls back just enough to look into Tim's eyes. He can't help moving his hands, petting Tim's hair, stroking down the kid's shoulders. "I don't want you to...you don't have to...freak out about this."

Tim bows his head and closes his eyes, pulling back as far as Dick's arms will allow without an actual struggle. "Then...you really need to let me go. And forget this ever happend."

"I *can't*! Tim, *please*! Tell me what I can do to make this _right_. To make you all right with this!"

And Tim stops. Thinks. There are only two outcomes of this situation that he thinks he can live happily with, and one of them is impossible. Either Dick lets him go, lets them try to forget, to go back to the way things were, being brothers, being friends...or...

It's impossible.

Tim's not deluding himself, no matter what Dick says right now, in the heat of the moment. He knows Dick would do just about anything to make him happy, and that makes it *worse*. Because what if Dick *agreed*...just to keep Tim from walking out.

"Little brother," the words are tender. One hand slides out of Tim's hair to cup his cheek. "Just tell me what you want. What you *really* want."

"I can't." Tim whispers. "I can't, Dick. I can't."

Dick leans his forehead against Tim's and squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice low. "God, this is all my fault. I'm _sorry_ , I-" he breaks off to swallow back bitterness and regret. "How is it that I keep hurting the people I care about the most?"

Tim looks up suddenly, his eyes wide. "No! Dick- You didn't - I swear, I'm not mad, I'm not- You didn't do anything I didn't...didn't want. But...we shouldn't have. It changes everything and I don't want it to.

"I just...liked things the way they were."

Dick sighs. "I don't think I'll ever really understand you, little brother," he says. He doesn't really believe things *can* go back to the way they were before. How can he resist touching Tim, kissing Tim, now that he knows it's something Tim wants? Now that he knows it's something *he* wants? It's impossible. "You are still my little brother, right?"

Tim snorts. *I don't know. Are you into incest?"

"You know what I mean," says Dick, frustrated. "This doesn't _have_ to change anything. You're still Robin. You're still my...my..." and he has to stop, because he isn't really sure *what* Tim is to him, if he's not his brother.

Tim sighs. "See? Everything's changing already. Do we know anyone with a time machine?"

Flashing him a grin, Dick says, "A few. But if we stopped it from happening this time, it would just happen some other, time, wouldn't it?" He ruffles Tim's hair and steps back. "All right, kiddo. Little brother. Timbo. _Timmy_." He grabs for Tim, pulling him into a headlock, and gives him a noogie. "If that's the way you want to play it." This isn't going to work. Just holding Tim against his chest makes Dick want to lean down and suck on his brother's neck, and Dick has *never* been good at self-denial. But he lets Tim go and makes himself smile anyway.

Tim swallows, feeling relief spread through him, cool as water. He got his way. He thinks he should be happier about it, though. He nods and steps back. Maybe this is reparable

Maybe they'll be okay.

"You're really alright with that?" Tim asks, feeling suddenly reluctant to retreat to his room. Something about the expression on Dick's face right now is holding him there.

"Of course," says Dick, ruffling Tim's hair again before forcing himself to stop. "If you're sure that's what you want...?" and he can't quite help the faint, hopeful note in the words.

Tim has to bite his lip and look away. "It's the best I can realistically expect from this situation."

Dick searches his face. He makes an abortive movement to reach for Tim, to...to pull him close, to kiss him to...he stops himself, closes his hand into a fist. Turns away. "Okay." He swallows.

Tim nods once. He takes a step back and Dick's arms fall away. It tears something in him to do it - he doesn't, actually, want to go.

But Tim is a realist. Dick isn't going to settle down with a kid most of a decade younger than him. He isn't going to stop liking pretty girls. He isn't going to stop searching for connection in everyone he meets.

Tim hadn't managed to head this disaster off, but he thinks he's managed the aftermath as well as he could hope for.

... _Hope_ for. He swallows.

He takes another step. Dick doesn't stop him. He turns.

If he leaves quickly, maybe Dick won't see him crying.


End file.
